


Got to get you into my life

by Getfreebaby



Category: Beatles
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 08:58:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20579891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Getfreebaby/pseuds/Getfreebaby
Summary: A lucky 19 year old Beatles fan is sent back in time. Will her assumptions about the Fab Four come to life? Or will reality shatter every belief she has of them?





	1. Chapter 1

There I was, sitting on my bed and staring at my poster that I had bought a year ago for the millionth time. It was of the boys standing on the rooftop in 1969 as they played their last performance as a group. Paul's beard was always so attractive in that photo of him. The thoughts of wanting to meet my favorite band was once again wrecking havoc on my imagination. The things I would say, the way I would say them, and in to which Beatle. Of course in my imagination they had all the reactions and replys that I wanted it to be. A whole conversation going my way between Paul and I was playing in my mind as I began to get ready for bed. I slipped out of the days outfit and put on a thin white shirt with comfortable grey pajama bottoms. Usually I preferred sleeping in the nude but that night I had young relatives sleeping over and the thought of them barging in at any moment made me rethink my sleeping arrangements. Turning on my fan and finally laying down, I pulled the covers over me and thought. What I would give to know you, Paul.

I smiled and somewhat laughed at how ridiculous I was to even think of such things. To think of meeting all of them before and during their prime. But I wanted it to be true so bad, with every part of me. I wanted to know if all the things I had imagined were as good in real life. However, deep down I knew that they weren't. Reading how the boys had treated their families and wives broke my heart. They were just like the men in my family that I despised and yet in my fantasies, they were none of that. But then again, it was just a fantasy. I thought that maybe if I knew them during the 60s, would have I overlooked that? Or hated them? My mind was racing over useless debates that I would never get to have any evidence to support. And still, I thought it over so carefully as my heavy eyes began to close. My sleep slowly taking over until I heard a horn blast.


	2. Chapter 2

My eyes shot open and my heart felt as though it was going to fly out of my chest. The sun pierced my eyes. How was it day? I saw a car pass by with a couple of young guys laughing and the driver shouting, "Oi love 'ard day gotcha down?" Before I could even comprehend what he was saying, they had driven off giggling and pointing at me. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck where the fuck am I? My mind was racing as I noticed I was siting with my legs spread out on the pavement. My head, I assumed, had been leaning against the brick wall making it seem I was passed out drunk on the sidewalk. I was so stunned that the next couple of seconds seemed blurry and every noise incoherent. Was I fucking kidnapped? The idea of being kidnapped made my stomach turn and limbs tingly. I didn't dare move from the spot I had awaken in. The tears began to build in my eyes and the lump in my throat was making its presence known. I carefully lifted my knees to my chest, my arms on them, and rested my head. My hyperventilating was becoming painful in my chest. The confusion making me want to scream. I closed my eyes. Okay Sarah, relax. Breathe. I sucked in the air and realized it was unbelievablely cold. But it's May.. I tried to gather my thoughts to make sense of my surroundings. I pulled enough courage to pick my head to look around myself some more. I hadn't noticed the people who had been walking passed me and even some crossing the street to the other sidewalk to avoid me. I must look insane right now. It didn't hit me that something else was off until one women made eye contact with me. Her outfit... I looked to my right. The cars and the people looked like they jumped off a page of book about the early 1960s. I put my head down and the urge to cry was coming back when I heard a young mans voice gently speak "Scuse' me miss? E'rything alright?" I looked up. George. A young handsome George. There he was, clear as day. He was sporting a thick grey coat and jeans from what I can make out because of the daze going on in my head. There was a worried look on his face accompanied by a cigarette in his hand. Now I was getting nauseous. Nothing was making sense. I just wanted to be back home. "Please let me go home please I wanna go home." I whispered to myself, finally letting the tears spill. I rested my head back on my arms and let myself cry as hard as I wanted. I squeezed my eyes closed. "Sorry?" He said, which now sounded like it was much further away *Ding!* Again, my eyes shot open. My breathing was rough and my nerves on the edge. I sat up quickly to see I was in my bed again with the room slightly lit by phone that was lying next to my pillow. I put my hands to my face and rubbed. I'm going insane. I said aloud. I had spent time in a mental facility for depression but nothing like this. I'm gonna go back there oh god maybe I should go back. My head was hurting from all of the awful anxiety that was rushing through me. I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up and looked for melatonin to help me sleep. Please let me just sleep normally.. As I popped one of the pills into my mouth. While the medicine began to take its course, I picked up my phone. 12:45am. Jesus Christ, I've been asleep only 10 minutes? I sighed and swiped away whatever twitter notification had gone off. I finally began to relax and my nerves were settling. Putting down the phone while I lied down, I thought to myself, George did look pretty good. I let out a soft chuckle before falling asleep. Was that really a dream? It all felt too real.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sorry?" Before even opening my eyes and lifting my head, I knew I was back. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! This felt too real! The frigid air hurting my bare arms and feet. The noises and sun beating down on me. Okay I know I can go home any moment now. If I just say it aloud. Before the words could get past my lips, his voice again was speaking to me. "Um do ya need any help?" He said a bit louder this time. He was still here staring at me with that worried look. Maybe I should just play along.. this could be an amazing dream or whatever the hell is happening. I lifted my head and looked up at him. "Uh I'm sorry. Just a really rough morning." I barely spoke. Jesus there he was. He was so darn adorable and sweet looking that I wanted to pass out. "Miss d'ya know how cold it is out 'ere? You 'aven't any socks or shoes on." Looking past my knees I saw how red my feet were becoming. The shock of everything was keeping me from noticing just how cold it really was. As soon as I saw my feet, the cold hit me. I began shivering and wanted so badly to run inside somewhere warm. "Oh yeah. It's a long story" I said trying to make up something as the words came out. He nodded slowly saying "Yer going to get sick. Maybe you should come inside?" Inside? I didn't say anything for a couple seconds thinking of what I should do. Should I wish to wake up and stay up the rest of the night? Take this opportunity to live out a fantasy? Sleeping right? I was asleep? "Hello?" He said. Before giving it any more thought, I pushed myself up off the ground and met his level. I smiled and slightly whispered, "Sure, I feel like I'm freezing to death." He gave a small smile and replied "a'right then." I hadn't seen that the small entrance to my right had a giant poster plastered next it that read THE CAVERN. My eyes widened and George took notice. "What's wrong?" I didn't know exactly what to say. "Nothing. Is this some sort of club?" I said lying through my teeth. As if I didn't know. "Oh yeah. Me band is playing 'ere during lunchtime. Thought I show up early to get a feel for the place." Oh my god. I was going to see The Beatles play at the cavern.

Walking in, there were a few teens standing about and some sitting at small tables drinking. I received the oddest looks. Stopping George, "I'm sorry but uh should I be in here? Like you said I don't even have socks or shoes on." He looked me up and down. I was wearing the pajamas I had fallen asleep in. "That is an interesting outfit you've got on." He laughed. "Sorry don't mean to be rude. I'm sure I'll find something to warm ya up in. I couldn't just leave ya outside to freeze." I smiled and looked down. Afraid my redden cheeks would show. We continued walking until we found an empty table to sit. "So yer American?" He said lighting up another cigarette and sat down. I frowned a bit, wishing he would put it out. "Yeah I'm from Texas." "Oh yeah? Like with all the cowboys and horses?" I giggled and rolled my eyes playfully, "Of course not. That's just a stereotype" "Ah okay I get it" he said blowing out smoke. We sat in awful awkward silence for what seemed to be hours but was surely only a minute or two. Working up the courage I finally spoke, "So you've got a band?" He lit up a bit. You could tell he enjoyed talking about it. "Yeah! We just got back from Hamburg. Bloody cops sent me back for bein' underage or something. Me other mates were sent back for setting fire to a condom on a club." He said laughing. I smiled and chuckled a bit. This was amazing. I was sitting across a young George Harrison, an almost nobody in the music world at the moment. These people around him don't know how lucky they are. "Oh god." He stood suddenly and walked over to my side. Taking off his coat and putting it on me "I'm so sorry. Here." Too stunned to move I let him wrap me up in the thick wool jacket. "Thank you." I said barely below a whisper. He started slipping off his shoes. "Oh no no you don't need to do that." He ignored my protests and put them near my feet. "Listen, I'm not gonna let you walk around with nothing." I looked down again at his feet. "I've got socks and now you've got shoes," he said with a smile. I shrugged and slid my feet in the warm shoes. Getting a tingle of comfort up my body, I thanked him again. He sat back down and we exchanged warm smiles. "George get off yer arse and 'elp us will ya?!" Our heads whipped to the side and saw Paul at the entrance carrying what looked like drum set pieces. George jumped up and looked at me, "I'll be back, don't go anywhere yeah?" We locked eyes. "Sure." He looked pleased. Looking back at Paul, I felt my palms sweat and my heart stop. Oh my goodness. He was gorgeous. He had that same slicked hair on the sides and a strain of hair with slightest curl resting on his forehead. His nose was red at the end of it along with the apples of his cheeks. George ran up to him taking whatever it was off his hands and talking. They glanced over at me a couple times, Paul looked down at George's feet and then looked at me with discontent. Okay now this wasn't as fun anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

After about a little over half an hour of watching the boys set up their instruments on stage, George returned to the table with a glass of water in his hand. "'Ere you are," he said handing it to me. "Thanks. Uh your friend over there seems to not like me." He turned to look at Paul. "Oh Paul? No no. He just thinks yer a bit odd is all." Oh great. The man of my dreams thinks I'm odd. "We never learned each other's name by the way. I'm George, you?" He said, pulling me out of my sulk a bit. "I'm Sarah" he grabbed my hand off the table and gave it a silly shake. "Pleased to meet you darling," he bowed. I snickered, "The pleasures all mine." I, myself, heard my southern accent bleed through the sentence. He stood up right, raised his eyebrows and chuckled, "Well now yer sounding' like a real cowgirl." Rolling my eyes and smirking. We sat and talked for a while. We talked about the kind of music he enjoyed, the music his band played, and how big they wanted to make it. The flow of the conversation was so easy. The words coming out of us with grace. If this was just a dream like I've been trying to convince myself it was, I was going to try to be more confident. "Could I meet Paul? I feel rude not introducing myself to him." He stood and nodded. He ushered me over to the bar where Paul was standing. All the while, George had his hand on my lower back. We arrived in the middle of Paul drinking a pint of something. I assumed alcohol. "Paul, this is Sarah." He turned and gave a discouraging grin. "Hi. I heard you and your band are going to be playing today. I think I might stick around to watch." George looked at me, secretly beaming with joy that wasn't hard to detect, "You are?" I turned my focus to him, "Well yeah. You were so nice to me when everyone else pretended I didn't exist. So I thought I should hang around and watch you play. That is, if you don't mind." Paul still was uninterested in what I was saying and looking straight ahead. Maybe I should try to wake up. This isn't how I wanted it go. "Yeah I took me chances. Glad you weren't crazy or anything. I wouldn't mind you watching," George paused and continued, "Well let's go sit back down, Sarah. We'll wait for the rest of the lads." Once we reached our site and sat down, I put my elbows on the table and rested my hands on my palms. I sighed loudly to which caught the attention of George who was already on another cigarette, sadly. "Somethin' a matter?" he questioned. "Oh no nothing. I'm fine." I said. I made the mistake of looking in Paul's direction while I said it. "Oh Macca gotcha down? Don't take it personal. He's going through some stuff." I tried to think of what was going on at this time in their lives. "You think there might be a newspaper lying around anywhere? I'd like to catch up on what's going on." I lied. "Sure lemme see." He walked around until he got one off some young boy sitting at the bar near Paul. He handed it to me. "Thank you." The date on the top of the front page read Tuesday, February 9th, 1961.

1961? What was happening? Dot! Paul's first steady girlfriend had just gotten pregnant around this time. I remembered how only 3 months later she would miscarry and in 1962 he would break up with her. How sad. I read she had a very difficult time. He was possessive and controlling. Like John did to Cynthia, Paul tried to turn Dot into some model/sex symbol named Brigitte Bardot. He went as far as making her dye her hair blonde and changing everything she wore. She had to start wearing little mini skirts. What a weird and gross thing to make someone do. Another thing that made me upset was that I had dark brown hair that touched my lower back. I had enough self-confidence to know that I had a pretty face. My eyes were dark brown and had thick long lashes. I had a set of pink pouty lips that I had always adored and a small lonely dimple on my right plumpy cheek. I was also petit and was at a average height for a 19 year old girl. I had small breast and tiny rear. My curves were too slight to notice beneath the baggy pajamas I was wearing. I looked the opposite of what Paul had desired at this time. Why should this bother me? How could I possibly want the attention of someone who would do the things he did? He said and did things to women that went against everything I believed in. Maybe I thought if I had the chance, I could change him. "Sarah?" I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. George was standing with a couple young men to his right. I was so deep in thought I hadn't noticed George left the table. Putting down the newspaper and getting a better look at the men, I almost blurted out their names before they could be introduced. "This is John, Stuart, and Pete" I extended my hand. "Hi I'm Sarah" they took turns shaking it. "'Ello" "Hi" "Hi" Stuart, Pete, and John both had a welcoming grin on their clean-cut faces. I was surprised they didn't take notice to how sweaty and shaky my hand was. Or maybe they had and decided to be polite. I suspected the latter. "You wouldn't mind given ol' George 'ere his shoes back would ya? Just long 'nough to perform on stage with." John stated so confidently. As if he wasn't even asking. The side of his lips curled up a bit and boy, was I swooned. John was by far my least liked beatle and I didn't know much about Pete or Stuart. Yet, it was amazing to be in their presence. Though I didn't like John that much, I still found him attractive. Gosh, they were all so damn cute. "Oh right of course," I said letting them slip off "Thank you so much George." I handed them to George and he began to take off his black socks. "There you ar'" he put them into my hands. "Ugh George mate tha's awful." John's face was scrunched up. "Well she can't watch the performance with bare feet! Can you?" He said looking at me. I hesitated but laughed and said "Right!" Trying somewhat to seem relaxed. John replied, "Yer a weird bunch but alright. Just keep those smelly things over on the other side of the stage." I let out a giggle. John gave me another sweet smirk before walking away with Pete, who didn't do much but react to the conversation with facial expressions. And Stuart had left the conversation right after introductions. Anyways, I knew that John's personality was going to be hard to resist. I was sexually attracted to bad boys and I read John was exactly that. Paul was a dream, John was a guilty pleasure, George was the unsuspecting sweetheart and Ringo was the funny lover. I had fantasied they all wanted me like some narcissist.

Soon more people had piled into the club and the boys had gone to the back to do whatever muscians do before going on stage. I had put myself in a corner to make sure I wasn't given more stares. Then it began. The chatter stoped and the boys rushed onto the stage. Applauds began and so did their instruments. As they played the first song, I think I recognized it from the anthology album or some documentary. However, them playing right in front of me left me so shocked that the lyrics sounded muffled. I visually soaked up their performance. The way they sang, strummed, and beat on the drums. They each looked so good in their own way. I didn't dance, though I wanted to so bad. I was so tired of people whispering about me all morning, I tried to keep the attention to myself at a minimum. Johns voice filled the teen clad room heavenly. I closed my eyes and breathed in the cigarette smoked and sweaty aroma of room deeply while smiling. This was far better than whatever I would make up in my head before bed. Song after song, I never lost that goofy grin. Next thing I knew, the crowd had thinned out. It was over. It was done so quickly. I sat back down with the adrenaline still rushing through me. I wondered what I should do now. Should I wait? Or wake up? Wake up. Right. This was a dream. Wasn't it? But the vibration of the music, the smell of smoke, and the people pushing by me was so real. I heard, smelled, and felt everything so clearly. I felt my nerves creeping up again when I heard his voice, "Sarah?" I looked up and softly replied, "Oh hi Paul, great show." My voice sounded cowardice.


	5. Chapter 5

"We're gettin' our things and will be leaving soon. George asked me to tell ya to wait here for a bit. He'll come out and meet ya when we're done." I was so star struck, I could only get out an "Okay yeah." As he walked away, I thought of how monotone his voice had been. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. He didn't like me at all. I think I still wanted him even after all of the evidence of him being an asshole to his girlfriends and him wanting to ignore me. He had never met anyone like me though. I wasn't one to put up with the shit men like him who spewed out whatever that wanted onto a girl. I sat for another 20 minutes before I saw George exit from backstage. A couple of people stopped him to shake his hand and tell him how great the show was. Finally after scanning the small crowd and finding me, he walked over with a smile. "There ya are! I couldn't spot you while we played. Thought ya walked off and left." God he so cute with his post-performance hair. It was a bit messed up but made him look adorable. "No of course not. I went over to that corner so I wouldn't get any more looks." He turned around looking at the other people around us. "Yeah don't give'em any mind. Got some snotty people 'ere sometimes." I agreed with a head nod. "So me and the lads are heading off now. Do you have any where to go or...?" He said waiting for me to fill in the rest. This had been the best dream in the world but not everything was going my way. George's attention was making me fluster but Paul, seemed put off by me. My gloomy mood over something so small would just ruin it all. "Well seeing that I have no real clothes or shoes on, I think I should get going." I gave a shrug. George furrowed his brows a bit with what seemed like a frown. "Well I'm sure we can get ya some proper clothes, no problem." I slid his jacket off and handed it to him. "I've had such a good time, George." My heart raced knowing I could make such a talented beautiful boy to feel sad by my absence. Again, my narcissism was showing. But, this was my fantasy and I wanted it just like this. Or almost like this. "Yer sure I can't convince ya to stay just for a little while? We could head back to where we are staying? Or where yer place is? I could drop ya off?" I giggled at how fast the questions were coming out of him. I looked at him and then down at the ground "Don't worry about me. Maybe I'll see you another time?" Finally I looked up and into his eyes, I leaned in and gave a gentle kiss on his cheeks. I felt the heat of embarrassment from my sudden courage go up my neck and threaten to spill red into my cheeks. Without looking back, I headed for the door. "Sarah?" I turned "We'll be playing again 'ere so please stop by again." I smiled, turned back and continued. I sighed loudly. I put my hand to the door and pushed. The light outside seemed blinding. Blinking, I saw that the blinds in my room were open and it was now morning. I lied down for who knows how long thinking of all the things I had dreamt about. I wanted to go back so badly. I heard a sudden knock on the door with a young shouting voice, "Sarah! We gotta go! We bought some tickets and are gonna go see a movie!" I groaned and hopped up from the bed. My little sister must've been told by my parents to wake me up. "Yup! Alright I'm coming." As I got dressed, I looked back at my bed and wondered if I could continue that dream later tonight. I could only hope.


	6. Chapter 6

The day was spent with me continuously zoning out and being in my head too much. I hardly remember the day spent with my family. I recall finally getting home late that night and being exhausted by my thoughts. After spending a bit more time with the family in the living room, my tiredness got to me and I said goodnight to them all. Before getting into bed, I sat at my desk where I kept some of my records. I was examining the Rubber Soul album when I soon felt my eyes growing heavy. Then, there was a familiar voice, "Sarah?" I was too tired to reply and shrugged it off as someone trying to wake me from the desk. I heard a bit of a laugh before I realized my position. My forehead was lying on on my arm which I assumed was resting on a table. I cracked open my eyelids slowly and saw the low light. I lifted my head to see George standing in front of me with an amused smile on his face. "Oh thank god it's you. I was going to be so embarrassed if it were someone else," he said with a chuckle and continued, "How come ya always seem to be passed out when I see ya?" I tried to make sense of what was going on. "Mmyeah tired a lot." I spilled out. He laughed at my mess of a sentence. "I guess you came back to see us perform huh? We've gotten a lot better since you saw us last." I looked around quickly and saw I once again in the cavern. "This time with shoes!" He laughed. I looked down and saw I was wearing my knee length black skirt with a white blouse and paired with some little black pumps. I took pride in wearing nineteen-fifties/nineteen-sixty inspired outfits. They seemed to be paying off considering my dreams had me wearing whatever I fell asleep in. 

Dreams. It wasn't a dream. I began panicking at how I knew this wasn't a dream like I had been trying to convince myself it was. Then it hit me. Time felt to slow down as the reality of what was happening began to creep on me and steadily turned into anxiety. I could my palms begin to sweat along with the inside of my cheeks salivate. This usually meant I was going to vomit. It took all my courage to put up one finger and blurt "Restroom???" I accidentally cut off whatever he was going to say "You kn- Oh okay, yeah, I'll show you." As I stood, I could feel the dread of feeling like I had lost my mind run through my legs and arms. My walk started to become weak and I hardly made it to the entrance when my limbs finally gave out, to which I was met with a slouch on the cold dirty ground of the ladies restroom with my back against the wall. I could hear the faintest of whispers and snickering as blurs of woman and young girls passed by me to exit. I didn't know if I had lost my mind and if I didn't, how this could happen? The millions of questions went through my mind as I sat on the floor. Last time? How long was it since I had seen them last? Am I jumping through different times? I analyzed every single thing in my head painfully. I had must've been in there for quite some time because a young lady, who resembled the style of Tuesday Weld which she matched with just a bit too much of a floral perfume, stood in front of me and said something along the lines of, "Sarah? You're friend, George, is wanting to know if you're okay?" With each thick Liverpudlian syllable, I gradually was pulled of my trance. I gave a half-assed smile and somewhat nodded my head. She nodded with a friendly smile and walked out. I've got to get up, I thought to myself.   
My wobbly legs lifted me and I gently dusted off whatever dirt accumulated on my black pencil skirt. As I walked to the mirror and sink, I thought of how all of this could go so terribly bad. I could slip up and say something about the future of their band. Or maybe effect the band itself. I could feel the anxiety start to set back in and this time I tried to just relax. I closed my eyes and remembered how my therapist told me to navigate my anxiety attacks. Except she probably hadn't even been fucking born yet and those relaxation exercises didn't include what to do when you are somewhere unfamiliar like 1961 in fucking Liverpool. I knew my heart palpitations would start if I didn't calm myself. It's okay, I breathed to myself. I could go home anytime, I knew that, but if I kept coming back, maybe I should just stay for a while. Maybe I had gone insane or maybe I was in a coma, either way it was at that moment I had decided to stay. Despite all the awful things that go wrong. After that decision, I had to worry about the fact I was in front of the actual Beatles. Two of which were already dead. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply through nose. I was thinking of how I knew no one would ever believe me. I opened my eyes and looked at my reflection. "Alright" I whispered to myself. Thinking twice, I finally made my way out.


End file.
